


Flaws

by butterflycell



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:37:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflycell/pseuds/butterflycell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was calm, for the first time in a while. There was no bustle of traffic, no whirring of hovercars and garbage disposal, no humming of electronics and the constant, constant pressure of Starfleet at his back. There were no ghosts of great men who had died because of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flaws

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little thing, inspired by [Flaws (Accoustic)](http://youtu.be/O8eITJ88Psg) by Bastille

It was pretty perfect really. Jim wasn't in any rush to open his eyes, blinking slowly against the soft, warm light filtering through the half open curtains. The duvet and sheets were wrapped up around his waist, sliding a little lower on Bones and showing a strip of tanned skin on his side where his tshirt had ridden up.   
  
Jim closed his eyes again, nestling back against Bones' chest as sleepy arms moved to tighten around his waist a little. He felt the brush and nudge of Bones' nose against his head and the slow, easy sigh as he shifted. Jim tucked his fingers against small of Bones' back. It was getting to be a familiar pattern, and that was good.   
  
Everything was calm, for the first time in a while. There was no bustle of traffic, no whirring of hovercars and garbage disposal, no humming of electronics and the constant, constant pressure of Starfleet at his back. There were no ghosts of great men who had died because of him.   
  
There was just Georgia, countryside and rolling fields and pure, untouched horizon. There was old fashioned baseball mitts, a tyre-swing in the back yard, a honest-to-God four wheel pick up on the drive. There was home-made meatloaf and peach cobbler, there were hand-knitted blankets and soft, comfortable civilian clothes.   
  
He opened his eyes, just watching Bones. He had that permanent furrow in his forehead, lines pressed into his cheek from the pillow case, his hair sticking in odd and pretty unattractive angles – but he looked at peace. After everything, Bones deserved that, and Jim wouldn't take it away from him.   
  
It had only been a month since Pike and Khan and Admiral Marcus. It had only been a month since Jim had lost the closest thing he had to a father and Bones lost the closest thing he'd had to a future. Jim had seen some of the security footage from the labs, had read the reports on Bones' activity. He'd read between the lines when Bones broke down somewhere between finalising the serum and himself finally waking up. Every word had told him exactly what he'd been looking past for years.   
  
_“Yeah, well I'm not perfect.”_ Bones had said, looking away as Jim pushed himself to sit up on weak arms, to confront him like he deserved.   
  
_“Neither am I. I wouldn't be me if I were.”_ Jim had shrugged, Bones looking round to him. _“And neither would you.”_   
  
They should have known, really. This was the only possible outcome of everything they'd done and been through together. Jim had belonged to Bones the first time he'd patched him up after a bar fight in the first week of the academy. Bones had belonged to him the moment he showed up at the doctor's door with a split lip and a chest _full_ of self-loathing – the moment Bones had tugged him inside with a scowl and no questions asked.   
  
But now the air was warm, the bed smelt like Bones and the arms around him were finally where they always should've been. He reached up, ran a finger along Bones' nose, pressing his thumb to his chin lightly, making Bones scowl again and pull him closer with a slight growl. Jim smiled and kissed him gently, brushing away the lines on his forehead, stroking down his jaw and over his neck.   
  
He didn't taste that good, and neither did Jim, but he'd seen Bones at his best and his worst – he'd probably been the cause of both – and he'd take whatever version of the man he was allowed.   
  
Bones hooked a socked foot round his ankle, tangling them together. He pulled the duvet around Jim's back, smoothed a hand over the bare skin and settled against him, sighing slightly and breaking the kiss. His eyes were bleary as he blinked them open and Jim felt something warm bloom in his chest, just as it always did.   
  
He didn't really know what he'd done the deserve this, how he'd managed to find the last piece of the puzzle – how he'd managed to find any of the pieces in the first place. In five years, he'd gone from being a stain on his family's history with no-one to notice if he lived or died, to having a place in the world, to having someone cared enough to make him care too. He'd found someone who was his responsibility in turn, someone he had to stay alive for, someone who was just as stubborn and broken when you peeled back the layers.   
  
He had Bones, and that was really all he needed.   
  
The sun was still soft, falling across the floorboards and the sheets, falling across their sprawl of pale and tanned skin. It was warm and welcoming. The bed smelt of Bones and the faint, lingering scent of the cut hay outside in the fields. They were going to the store today and Bones was making fried chicken and grits for dinner and Jim was going to drag him out to the yard to watch the stars as the sun set and painted the sky.   
  
He'd keep getting better, keep recovering from being dragged through death and back. He'd keep building himself back to where he'd been and, with Bones' help, he'd surpass himself and they'd be unstoppable.


End file.
